When Doves Cry
by Sophia
Summary: *FORMERLY CALLED "SERENDIPITY"* A tale of love,anger,guilt,losing,and winning.What if Clarice Starling and Doctor Lecter fell in love all over again...But didn't know it? Read&Review please!!
1. Default Chapter

~I don't now, nor have I ever owned any of these characters. Although at some point I wish I did. Just the start of something I've never done before- Fanfiction. That's right, I'm a new one to this circle of people. So be patient with me, I'm only human. Let me know if I should keep this going. ~Sophia.~ (Yes, I used my name in this story. And this is outside either cannon, book and novel.)  
  
The wind whipped around Sophia's head, lifting her rich black hair upwards towards the Heavens.  
  
Her pale yellow skirt was tied tightly around her waist, and her white tank top clung to her as the wind flew by in a sudden burst of energy.  
  
Another storm was making its way into Buenos Aires.  
  
The small sailboat, the Maria Bella, faltered a bit before ignoring the winds commands and steering its own coarse.  
  
Sophia at the wheel, the boat was in good hands.  
  
As a young child Sophia had learned the artful skill of sailing from her father, and often enjoyed the large amounts of time spent out there, drifting and talking until the sun sank and disappeared behind the trees in the distance.  
  
But now she stood alone.  
  
As she reached out for the rope to pull the huge sail down from its high place above her head, the sun made her caramel colored skin almost shine in the soft glow.  
  
Her smoky gray eyes played in contrast to her dark hair, and made her look much younger than she was.  
  
The sail fluttered a bit as it detached from the rope and she pulled it back to its post.  
  
It was time to turn the motor on and head back to shore.  
  
As she sat by the stern of the boat and pulled the chord, she heard the loud motor rev up, and the water began to bubble.  
  
She let one hand skim over the surface of the water as the other hand guided her to the dock.  
  
Little droplets of water began to fall as she stopped the motor and lifted herself up onto the wooden dock.  
  
She secured the boat to the metal stake with the thick, heavy rope, and stood up, brushing her skirt off.  
  
She slid a piece of hair behind her ears, her nails clean and clear, the shape of almonds, and took a last evenings look at the small, private lake.  
  
She flinched as the cool rain began to fall in a sudden downpour.  
  
The strong thunder crackled above her very loudly as she began to run, leaving her sandals at the dock, her bare feet making their way across the wet grass.  
  
She regretted walking, knowing it would have been a shorter ride home on her bicycle.  
  
These two miles would be torture.  
  
She entered the forest that surrounded the lake, and although the number of trees made it look as if she where standing in front of a giant, green sheet, it didn't stop the rain.  
  
The beaten dirt path was already pooling up, the soil now wet, leaving her footprints in the mud as she ran.  
  
Her hands made idle attempts to surpass as an umbrella, lifting above her head, her palms towards the gray sky.  
  
Her hair was flying wildly around her, a few strands sticking to her soaked cheeks and forehead, the rest of it finding places to mat down around her shoulders and back.  
  
Sophia, at this moment, reminded herself of a gypsy. A wild spirit gypsy, one of many who had, at one time, roamed the land she was currently running on.  
  
She heard a birds last attempt to call to its family, and she looked up.  
  
A very big mistake.  
  
Her left foot suddenly became lodged underneath an uprooted tree root, the mud acting as a bonding agent between the two.  
  
The sound she made was funny in itself, and she fell forward, her body twisting as did her ankle, and she began falling backwards, the pellets of the pouring rain making it all the more difficult to keep her balance.  
  
She landed with something between a thud and a squish in the mud below her.  
  
A laugh mixed with a cry of pain emerged from deep within her throat as she struggled to prop herself up with her hands, her fingers failing miserably to attach onto anything on the ground to keep her slick palms from sliding out from under her and being pushed down into the thick mud.  
  
The rain was coming down in sheets now, making it almost impossible to see ahead of her. It nearly blinded her.  
  
Her hair was now wrapped around her neck in patches, sticking to her skin as the streams of rain rushed down her face and neck.  
  
She took a minute to regain her composure, letting herself catch her breath. Then, she carefully slid her foot out from under the tree root, wincing in pain as the muscles refused to work with her and ripped apart.  
  
-This is the last thing I need- she thought –A sprained ankle-  
  
She couldn't move, much less get up like this.  
  
Sophia finally just gave up, laid back, and let the rain wash over her, pooling around her.  
  
She turned her head to the side so the water wouldn't interrupt her breathing.  
  
Mud was now seeping itself into her hair and onto her scalp as her ankle throbbed endlessly.  
  
Just as she was about to try getting up again, she heard the sound of someone running in the mud. She turned her head and squinted to see a man running towards her. He called out to her in Spanish.  
  
"Miss! Are you alright?!"  
  
"I'm fine!" She answered, also in Spanish.  
  
He came up beside her, and obviously not caring about his own clothes, got to his knees, breathing heavily.  
  
"I saw you out here from my house up the path. You don't look alright."  
  
"I think I sprained my ankle, I can't move it."  
  
He nodded.  
  
"Can I look at it? It might be more serious."  
  
She nodded in agreement. Any opinion was probably far better then her own.  
  
It was this time she took to look at him through the sheets of rain pouring over them. His eyes where blue, and much like her, in contrast to his dark black hair. His skin was tanned, a tad darker than hers, and he looked very strong. His voice was deep, and it almost struck a chord with her.  
  
Almost.  
  
She drew back her foot almost as soon as he touched it, the pain almost too much.  
  
"Damnit!"  
  
"Sorry Miss. But it looks to me like you broke it."  
  
She let her head fall back to the muddy ground.  
  
"Just what I need."  
  
"How far from here do you live?"  
  
"Two miles."  
  
"That's a long way. I live just beyond the trees. I wouldn't mind if you'd want to get cleaned up there and wait until the rain settles down."  
  
"That's very kind of you."  
  
"Don't mention it."  
  
As she tried to get up herself, he spoke again.  
  
"Need some help?"  
  
She laughed.  
  
"Love some. Thank you."  
  
"No problem."  
  
She'd expected him to let her lean on him, but instead he lifted her into his arms as if she where a leaf. She hesitated to go along with it for a moment, until she felt herself slipping out of his grip.  
  
She put her arms around his neck to prevent her from falling. As he walked along the path, he made conversation to keep her mind off of her ankle.  
  
"If you don't mind me asking, what's your name?"  
  
"Sophia. Sophia Feutros."  
  
"I'm Carlos. Carlos Gonzalez."  
  
"Nice to meet you." She laughed.  
  
"Likewise." He said with a smile.  
  
-Strange- she thought –He seems so familiar. Maybe I'm just imagining things-  
  
Too bad she didn't know he was thinking the same about her.  
  
~Well, that concludes chapter one. What do you think so far? Should I go on or no? Let me know then! ~Sophia~ 


	2. Sullen Anniversary

~No need to sue, I don't own these people. And to those of you wondering, this is a story about Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling. You'll just have to keep reading to find out how it relates!. ~Sophia~  
  
As they rounded the corner, the rain slowing down a bit, but not by much, Sophia saw the most beautiful Villa in a setting of trees, bushes, and exotic flowers she never knew grew there.  
  
It was a soft tan color with a rounded roof, on the porch was a swing and also a few wicker chairs with high backs and butterflies attached. The windows where closed due to the rain, but decorated heavily in different painted colors as you'd see the stained glass at a church.  
  
Sophia was filthy with the mud from the ground, though most of the soil on her skin had drained away with the rain, her clothes still held it and she was afraid of getting anything too dirty.  
  
The main door was open already, and the screen door opened inwardly, which was odd in itself.  
  
As they entered the Villa, she was instantly hit with the aroma of Honeysuckle. She knew this because she herself lived by a huge and vast bushel of the same plant, and during the rain, the smell of them became almost overwhelming, despite their sweet welcoming.  
  
He sat her down on a cushioned wicker chair, and elevated her legs onto a wicker footstool.  
  
He vanished for a moment into the next room, but reappeared with several towels and placed them in her lap.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
He nodded.  
  
"I'll call the physician while you dry yourself off. We should have a pro come and look at that."  
  
Sophia picked up one of the navy blue towels and wrapped it around her head.  
  
The other two where put to use on her arms, most of her legs, and her face and neck.  
  
She heard the phone click and Carlos emerged from the other side of the room and sat down beside her on the wicker rocking chair.  
  
-This man likes wicker- she thought to herself –it looks a lot like my house-  
  
"He said he'd be here in about ten minutes."  
  
Sophia nodded and smiled.  
  
"Thanks again." She said as her eyes drifted to the table beside her. There where a few drawings there, mostly of the landscape, and a book of sonits. She looked closer and saw the name William Shakespeare. She smiled and looked at him.  
  
"You like Shakespeare?"  
  
"Yes, he's one of my favorite writers."  
  
"Mine too. My favorite sonit is 116."  
  
He thought for a moment, then smiled and said,  
  
"Lead me not to the marriage of true minds, admit impediments. Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds or bends with the remover to remove. Oh no, it is an ever fix-ed mark, that looks on tempests and is never shaken."  
  
She raised her eyebrows.  
  
"Wow, that's pretty good. Know the rest?"  
  
He laughed.  
  
"No, I only ever remember the first part."  
  
She laughed.  
  
"Me too. But hey, I know it has something to do about stars and worth, if that helps."  
  
They both laughed as she picked up the book and flipped to the sonit.  
  
"Ah ha! I was right."  
  
"What does it say?"  
  
"It is the star to every wondering bark, who's worth's unknown although his height be taken."  
  
"So you where."  
  
She closed the book and set it back on the table.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
(This part of the story is set in her house. The description of what happens in his home with the doctor isn't too important, and I wanted to get moving along as soon as possible. You'll understand once the pieces to the puzzle start to fall into place.)  
  
Sophia sat on her couch, her foot elevated, now in a cast. The doctor had said she had in fact broken her ankle.  
  
She was just glad to be home. She had already taken a bath, careful of her foot obviously, and was now just resting out of sheer exhaustion.  
  
Her hair was pulled up into a tight braid behind her, and small curls tumbled down out of their restraint, resting softly on her cheeks.  
  
She was also tiring of speaking the native language (Spanish) and was happy she could at least talk to herself in English. Even though Carlos was an interesting conversation maker, she found talking tedious and overrated. She didn't see the need at all, really.  
  
Sophia grew tired of the market place and villagers very quickly, everything Spanish, everything so opposite her.  
  
She lifted the mouth of the bottle to her lips, tilting her head back and, ignoring the doctors wishes of staying away from liquor on her pain medication, took a large amount of rum into her mouth.  
  
To most people it tasted somewhat like helium. To her, it tasted like a good reason to fall asleep at three in the afternoon.  
  
She hadn't noticed this yet, but she had been singing despite the fact that there wasn't a song to be heard, or a radio for that matter.  
  
She was tapping her head back and forth to an imaginary beat, the newspaper clipping from three years ago held tightly in her hand, waving back and forth. It's what had been driving her to the bottle in her other hand for a long time now.  
  
Her eyes where red and puffy, half closed. She was already close to being totally drunk now as she took another sip.  
  
She drew in a breath and sang the song over again.  
  
Within seconds, Sophia passed out, the bottle slipping from her grip and clunking onto the floor, spilling the rest of its contents out onto her rug.  
  
All the guilt, pain, and frustration that had built up little by little over time had finally begun to take its wrath on her.  
  
Especially since tomorrow would be the sullen anniversary of the horrible tragedy that plagued her like the Black Death.  
  
The anniversary of the day she killed Hannibal Lecter. 


	3. Pandora's Box

~I don't own them, I'm not making money, so please, don't try to sue me! Samantha, breathe! It's ok! Try to stay calm as this chapter explains a little bit more. Ciao! ~Sophia~  
  
The rain was falling once again on this warm evening. Even now, as Sophia lies sleeping, she can hear it tapping lightly on her window.  
  
The bottle that had emptied its contents onto her eggshell carpeting lay still, a small amount of rum still lingering inside.  
  
The smell of the liquor was rising with the heat, the scent passing over her nostrils for a moment, bringing her out of her drink induced dreamland.  
  
But it wasn't the smell that had woken her up.  
  
Her eyebrows pulled inward as her stomach churned, and she regretted, although small in its amount, the sandwich she'd eaten before starting off on her drinking binge.  
  
This would be another fine day in Hell for Sophia Feutros. But it wasn't daylight yet.  
  
Her now green eyes shimmered in the darkness from the glossy haze of being drunk on the verge of a hangover coming on.  
  
Her skin was pale she realized, and thanks to the rum, she'd have to take extra care of her skin before she ventured outside. If, that is, she even chose to.  
  
Now if she could only remember where she'd put that instant tanning lotion.  
  
Sophia figured it was best not to think at this low point in these high hours of the morning. It was early, still dark she noticed.  
  
Her eyes caught sight of the digital clock on her VCR, the red numbers glowing in the darkness.  
  
They reminded her of something she'd rather forget.  
  
It was only three AM, and she already knew she wouldn't get any more sleep that night. All the memories in her head had formed into a painful recollection of this exact moment had made her eyes flicker open.  
  
The screaming. She still heard it ringing through her head, even though the dream (her painful reality) had ended.  
  
HIS screaming. It was all such a terrible accident. One that, for the first time in her life, she wouldn't be able to live down. One she couldn't hide from, or store away and forget about. It had been her fault four years ago to the minute. The only sound three AM brought to her was gunfire and screaming.  
  
Visions of black rain and blood, pulsing through her veins and making its long, tedious trip to her brain, crashing through the brick wall surrounding it, finding its way to that locked, steel door of her memory palace, and seeping through the small keyhole. Then, like a forceful blast of TNT, the fuse she herself had lit (also sealing her own fate), blasted the door open, opening the flood gates, and all Hell breaking loose.  
  
Sophia's mind was Pandora's Box, and death to all who opened it. A lifetime of horrid visions and memories, blood and pain, fury and anger, lies and truth, unrequited love and losing, so many tears you could fill all of the Atlantic Ocean four times. But most of all, plain bad luck. A fate so unimaginable, so unbearable, she wasn't sure how she'd survived herself so long. Terrible misfortune.  
  
Whoever had played her cards was given the worst hand, and had bet everything and lost.  
  
It took all of five minutes for her to realize she hadn't blinked since she'd woken up. She closed her eyes and the visions of that night came rushing back in a tidal wave, breaking like the ocean over her head.  
  
A sound broke through the air, so thick with humidity you could almost see the drops of water dancing through the air.  
  
"You've got mail."  
  
Her eyes opened as she heard her computer from the next room.  
  
She didn't remember leaving it turned on.  
  
-This should be fun- she thought as she slid her feet over the edge of the couch, one in a cast and the other bare. Her hands fumbled in the darkness for the cool wood of the crutches she'd been given, and once gripping them, she pulled herself up, positioning the crutches under her arms.  
  
She made her way into the next room and sat at a table, sitting her crutches on the wall next to her.  
  
Among the newspapers and print outs sat an old computer, the only kind you could find in Buenos Aires.  
  
This was a room she barely went into.  
  
Her hair fell in spirals around her shoulders and down to her lower back, the light from the screen tinting the black hair blue.  
  
She clicked on the mail symbol.  
  
An email from Carlos. She'd given him her address but didn't expect to hear from him so soon.  
  
She opened it and it read:  
  
"Dear Sophia,  
  
I know you probably won't get this until tomorrow morning (Or should I say later today?), but I wanted to see how your ankle was. That not being the only point in this, I'll continue."  
  
She bit the inside of her cheek as she read. An annoying habit she'd picked up from her days in America, when she'd been craving for caffeine.  
  
"I wanted to see if I could stop by tomorrow (I'll need directions again) to check on you. I could bring some of my other books, unless (and I'm sure you do) have the same of your own? Let me know, and sleep well.  
  
Carlos."  
  
She let out a low groan of annoyance. She didn't want to be around anyone today. She just wanted to be left alone. But how would she tell him?  
  
Dear Carlos, I'm a murderer, sorry but I don't think you'd be interested in me? Dear Carlos, I killed the most wanted criminal by accident while trying to save his life, and today is the day it happened four years ago? Dear Carlos, I killed the man I love, so I shouldn't get too close to you?  
  
Sophia was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Below her was water, filled with sharks and inhumane ways of death. And above her, Heaven, a place where she didn't belong.  
  
Her stomach turned again as she shut off her computer, and decided on acting like she'd never seen that email, and listened to the sounds of the rain. 


	4. Firefly/Hungover

~Don't own, don't sue. Ah, are those pieces starting to slip into place yet? Well, if not, perhaps before you move on, you should go back, hmm? Enjoy! ~Sophia~  
  
  
  
Sophia awoke on the floor of her, as she liked to call it, "Research Room".  
  
Her computer was still on; the chair was knocked over onto the floor. Little red, intricate lines had formed on her face where the carpet had left its mark.  
  
-It hurts- was all she could register so far.  
  
There was a cold bottle in her hand (Captain Morgan) and her head was throbbing with pain as she lifted it off of the floor. She had managed to sink even lower into this liquor coma.  
  
A small stream of saliva ran down the corner of her mouth, and she let out a low moan. Her head hit the floor again.  
  
-I need to…get up or something-  
  
She felt her stomach do a total 360 as she tried to move again. The dull acid was starting to rise, and she felt her nose start to burn. Her throat went dry.  
  
-Trashcan…Now…-  
  
Her left hand flung to the space beside her, landing with a hard ping with the contact of skin on metal. The sting didn't register half as much as the nausea.  
  
She felt a lump rising in the back of her throat as she buried her face inside the metal can, echoing sounds of sickness ringing through her house like a sadistic alarm clock.  
  
At least now she felt better. She slid onto her hands and knees, afraid to walk just yet. She'd been here before, and she didn't want to do the stupid thing twice in her life.  
  
She wavered a bit before she started the agonizingly slow crawl out into her hallway. Her hair hung over her face, her eyes shut as she blindly felt her way to the bathroom.  
  
As she felt the coolness of the linoleum under her legs, she reached her hands up to grasp the cool porcelain of the sink.  
  
Slowly, and not to mention painfully, she pulled herself up into a standing position. She felt for the light switch as she stood, flicking it on, the light shooting dots of red and black pain into her retna.  
  
Her vision was still very blurry, and the reflection in the mirror shocked her. She looked dead. Her eyes where sunken in and deep brown in color around the lids, her skin so pasty and pale it looked like a sheet of paper tinted slightly blue, her lips gray, and little beads of cold sweat around her brow.  
  
-Why am I so dizzy-?  
  
She dismissed the thought and ran a pale hand through her hair, pulling it off. She'd slept in that wig again, and it hadn't been pleasant. Her long, fire red hair fell to her lower back as she unclipped the pins that held it tightly to her head. The wig would need a lot of brushing before she could even think of using it again.  
  
She heard her radio playing, and sighed as she noticed she'd forgotten to turn the alarm off. She had it set for 4 AM.  
  
That must have been what had woken her up. At least she got American stations, and even though it was the music she preferred not to listen to, it was better than the shit they played in Buenos Aires.  
  
She looked into the hallway as she heard the female start singing, and shoved the same pale hand through her red hair, leaning on the sink.  
  
"One way, or another, I'm gonna find ya, I'm gonna getcha getcha gethca gethca, one way, or another, I'm gonna find ya, I'm gonna getcha getcha getcha getcha."  
  
She knew at that moment that every song she'd hear that day would be directly implanted in her mind as another song to him.  
  
She was sick of all of these reminders. After all, she'd left the States not only to escape the law, which she'd once served loyally, but also to get away from the painful memories that seemed to haunt her wherever she went.  
  
It was still dark inside her house, the twilight not seeming to want to give up to the rising sun. She didn't blame it. She wouldn't want this day to begin either.  
  
She shook her head once more and grabbed ahold of the brick wall beside her, grabbing the crutches propped in the doorway.  
  
Her tiled floor was cold under her feet, and a soft sigh escaped her lips as she walked onto the thick carpeting of her living room.  
  
Living room. It sounded so…Ironic. And it was, to think that so much death could be played out inside of a LIVING room.  
  
She made her way over to the couch and sat down, bringing her foot up to rest on the sofa along with her.  
  
Just in time for another song to start to play. She growled at the radio, and hoped the sleep button would kick in before she kicked it out the window. Oddly enough, it was the song she had been singing lastnight. She didn't know they still played it anymore.  
  
I am waking from a dream  
  
I am choking on a scream  
  
You where trying to show me something  
  
But the dark is wide and long  
  
The gates are closed  
  
The crowd's all gone  
  
But you're still shimmering and  
  
Leading me home  
  
Firefly that's what you are  
  
Burning for me  
  
In my darkest hour  
  
Light breaks where no sun shines  
  
So shine for me tonight  
  
Firefly  
  
I went to Magnolia sweet and fresh  
  
Lines of poetry on my breath  
  
You where there but you have  
  
Gone away  
  
My inspiration are the evening stars  
  
So come to me wherever you are  
  
I will wait for you tonight alone in the dark  
  
Firefly that's what you are  
  
Burning for me  
  
In my darkest hour  
  
Light breaks where no sun shines  
  
So come as you are  
  
My evening star  
  
And shine for me tonight  
  
Firefly  
  
Shine your light on me-  
  
The song cut off as the sleep finally kicked in. She sighed and leaned her head back on the soft pillow, pieces of hair falling on her face. She didn't yet know what she'd do today to keep her mind off of her problems. She'd done too much drinking, so that was out of the question. And she couldn't go sailing, she'd get sick if she stepped onto a boat right now.  
  
There was only one thing to do. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded it.  
  
Her hand reached for the phone and held it to her ear as she dialed Carlos' number. 


	5. Love Among The Ruins

~Hello everyone. Sorry it's taken me so long to update this story! But, I have good reason behind it. You see, I'm currently in the middle of final exams and they are killing my head. So basically, I've been on brain freeze for the longest time. I apologize greatly for my absence. In this chapter, a little more is revealed that I should have (but didn't with reason) said from the start. So enjoy this, and I hope those exams don't get in the way anymore. Oh, credit goes to the movie Gia for helping me with the opening dialogue. For all of you who want to know, this story is taking place after the movie Hannibal. This is for the impatient ones. Haha. Ta! ~Sophia~  
  
The sleepy male voice at the other end of the line amused her.  
  
"Yes, yes hello?"  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Who is this?"  
  
"Hi, it's me."  
  
"Sophia…"  
  
"I can't sleep."  
  
"It's very early…"  
  
"I know, sorry."  
  
"It's alright. Why can't you sleep?"  
  
"I don't know. I think it's just been a bad night."  
  
A bad night? Ha! The understatement of the century.  
  
Let's try, living nightmare designed to destroy my life and everything I've worked for in the most inhumane way. Yes, that fits it better.  
  
"Is everything alright?"  
  
"Not exactly…"  
  
"Is it your leg? The doctor told you to-"  
  
"No, it isn't that."  
  
No, it's far more painful than any broken bone. Truth be told I'd rather have all of my bones broken one at a time, slowly, then pulled through my skin rather than having to suffer through this.  
  
"Then what-"  
  
"Can you come over?"  
  
She heard him sigh heavily, sleep still floating through his prefrontal lobe.  
  
"Sophia, can this wait until I-"  
  
"No it can't…it really can't."  
  
She wasn't sure if it was the urgency in her voice or the hour of the morning that made him re think the option.  
  
"Alright Sophia, I'll be over in about twenty minutes, ok?"  
  
"Thank you…"  
  
"You owe me."  
  
Click.  
  
Oh this newfound silence that now surrounded the house after that click was disturbing to her. She would rather have heard the lambs. No more could she hear the soft piano melody float through the house she once labeled as her own in Virginia when he'd come to visit her late at night. No more hearing the amusement in his voice when she'd thanked him on several occasions for his company, and his wisdom that had let her resign from the FBI. Not one single laugh remained to welcome her after those few glasses of wine by the fire. No more would she hear that soft metallic voice calling to her in the night to his side of the bed.  
  
Yes they had lived dangerously and in shadows among her roommate, but it had been worth it. Even all the mistakes that she had made.  
  
No more warmth, no more love.  
  
Not another glance at the house they had claimed as theirs after her leave from the FBI after they'd moved to Canada.  
  
Not even the crying of the child they'd had which had just learned to call her "Momma" and to call him "Daddy". They'd taken their daughter long before they'd taken her lover.  
  
All of it was stolen from its place in time far too soon, and too sudden.  
  
Taken from her, ripped from her heart and soul too quickly, no second chances, no saying goodbye.  
  
And it was all her fault.  
  
So sweet her love, and so bitter her conviction that it forced her to leave everything that had comforted her into the memories of times not forgotten, just lost.  
  
Her life was too much like hot, melted sugar that burned the tongue and seared the flesh at its erotic yet welcoming touch.  
  
The sugar had melted too long, and became black and sticky atop the fire they had made. Smoldering ashes where all that time had left her to taste, and the taste was bitter, sickening now in her mouth as the memories she'd had all burst into flames on that very stove on which they'd started.  
  
All because of a loaded gun.  
  
All because of the law that she, herself, once obeyed so closely, that she'd almost failed to realize her only true happiness.  
  
Oh yes, she'd tell him about all this. She had to, what other way was there? She couldn't go on letting him think that she could feel again, God knew she couldn't if she tried, and she couldn't go on letting herself believe she could either.  
  
Such sweet perfection turned into ugly, horrific, vivid images in her mind.  
  
A deep void in her very center, getting bigger every second she couldn't see, touch, taste, feel, hear, or smell him. He had overpowered her every sense, her every wish.  
  
The knife of death slashed so deeply into the flesh of her soul, that she thought she would bleed to death had her heart not stopped beating years ago.  
  
Not since that bullet left that gun on this very day, this very minute, sealing her devastating fate, her blood had turned cold, and stopped in its flow.  
  
It had stayed that way ever since.  
  
Oh yes, the lambs seemed the better option now.  
  
The knock at the door roused her from her thoughts. She grabbed the crutches and stood up, making her way to the bathroom.  
  
"Just a second!"  
  
She quickly but carefully put her wig on, and put her contacts in. After making sure it all surpassed as real enough, she went to the door and opened it.  
  
"It's good to see you again, Carlos."  
  
"Who's this daddy?"  
  
Sophia's eyes lowered to see a young girl, around the age of five, standing beside him. She looked a lot like him, with the exception of her red hair.  
  
Probably her mother's hair, Sophia thought.  
  
"That's Sophia, honey, the woman I said we where going to see."  
  
He smiled in apology to Sophia. She smiled.  
  
"You're right daddy, she IS pretty."  
  
Carlos blushed slightly, clearing his throat.  
  
"What do you say we go inside, ok?"  
  
The little girl nodded.  
  
"She's adorable." Said Sophia, backing away from the door to let them through. As they sat on the couch, Sophia sat on the chair across from them, setting her crutches on the wall beside her.  
  
"What happened to your leg?" Said the girl.  
  
"I fell in the woods. Don't worry, your daddy helped me get it fixed. What's your name?"  
  
"I'm not appose to tell strangers my name." She giggled.  
  
"Well, I'm not stranger." Laughed Sophia.  
  
"Her name is Mischa." Said Carlos.  
  
Sophia stopped laughing. Her eyes got wider and her mouth opened a little. Her mind flashed back.  
  
-After her last encounter with Hannibal at the lake house, she'd spent all of her time searching for him. After she'd found him, she contacted him letting him know it was safe now, that she wasn't out to hurt him. They sent letters for a month before he came back to her. He stayed in a local hotel and visited her every night after Delia had gone to bed. They stayed up talking, drinking wine, deciding what to do, making plans to leave together. They would have waited longer had she not gotten pregnant. Oh they where happy about it, and decided to go to Canada for the time being to have her child. They named her Mischa, after his sister (which he'd told her all about). –  
  
Sophia shook her head and looked at him. He saw the look in her eyes and concern flashed on his face.  
  
"Hey, are you ok?"  
  
"What did you say?"  
  
"I said are you-"  
  
"No, no, I mean her name."  
  
"Mischa. Oh, it wasn't my idea. It's her given name."  
  
Mischa nodded.  
  
"Yup. I'm adopted, right daddy?"  
  
"Right sweetie."  
  
"My real mommy is gone."  
  
No, Sophia thought, your real mommy is sitting right across the room from you.  
  
She found her voice again.  
  
"Wh-What about your father?"  
  
"Oh," Mischa giggled, "This IS my real daddy. He had to adopt me back cause after my mommy left they took me and he hadta get me back. Right daddy?"  
  
"That's right. It's a rather long story."  
  
Holy fucking Christ in heaven. Holy shit. Oh my God. But he's dead. This can't be happening. When will I wake up? Is this a joke? What the hell? She felt the tears sliding down her cheeks, her breathing quickened.  
  
Sophia didn't think before she spoke.  
  
"But he was killed four years ago…"  
  
"No he wasn't, he's sittin right here." Mischa laughed.  
  
"No. No! He was killed in Canada four years ago."  
  
She didn't see the look on Carlos' face as he spoke.  
  
"Mischa, go to the kitchen and get that drink you wanted. I'll be in soon, ok?"  
  
"Ok daddy." She said and jumped up, hurrying to the kitchen.  
  
If this is him, then God have mercy on me and let me know it now, thought Sophia.  
  
Her hands shaking, she slowly reached up and took pins out of her hair, and slid the wig off. Long, fire red hair fell down her shoulders to her lower back. Then, she reached for the contacts and took those out as well, her bright green eyes now shimmering with tears as she looked back to Carlos.  
  
His face was pale, his eyes holding back tears of his own.  
  
If is him, she thought, then this will prove it. Our song.  
  
She started singing, although behind the tears and the fright in her voice it sounded a little like sobbing.  
  
"Like two statues hidden inside ancient rock,  
  
we were praying for the secrets to unlock.  
  
And when the sun had turned its back on us,  
  
in the dark our love kept track of us,  
  
pushed together by the lack of love.  
  
The sky was falling,  
  
heaven was calling.  
  
When danger crashes,  
  
rose from the ashes.  
  
We held each other tightly through our hell of dreams."  
  
She didn't see him get up, but felt his arms slide around her tightly. Her arms came around his neck as she sobbed into his shoulder.  
  
"Clarice…"He said.  
  
"Oh God Hannibal…I thought you where dead…"  
  
"I thought I would never find you again, Clarice…"  
  
"You found our daughter…Oh God I can't believe this is real…"  
  
"Shhh Clarice, it's alright…We'll never part again…"  
  
"I promise…"  
  
"I love you Clarice."  
  
"I love you too Hannibal.."  
  
They held onto one another, finding all of those lost years within them. Clarice couldn't help herself, she needed to hear him sing again. Like he had so many times before, only to her. She began to sing, and was filled with urgency to hold him forever when she heard him singing as well, emotion clouding their vocals as if they hadn't spoken since they last saw eachother.  
  
"I still hear the never-ending echo of those screams.  
  
But it's a life not made for reliving,  
  
it's a life that makes your soul forgiving.  
  
We sealed our bond from the beginning.  
  
Aching, affection,  
  
vulnerable protection;  
  
falling, captured,  
  
crawling, rapture.  
  
The sky was falling,  
  
heaven was calling.  
  
When danger crashes,  
  
rose from the ashes."  
  
Neither of them heard Mischa creep back into the room.  
  
"Daddy? Are you ok?"  
  
Hannibal pulled away and kissed Clarice on the cheek. He then looked to his daughter. Their daughter.  
  
"Yes honey. Mischa I want you to meet someone."  
  
"I already met Sophia daddy."  
  
"No no. Her real name is Clarice."  
  
"That's my mommy's name too!"  
  
"Yes. That is because this is your mommy."  
  
"It is? But you said mommy was-"  
  
"I know. You know how we where looking for her?"  
  
Mischa nodded.  
  
"Well, we've found her. This is your mommy, Mischa. This is Clarice." 


End file.
